


Would you like a drink my Lady?

by 1Astrum1



Category: Asoiaf - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, Season 8 not technically fix it, Season 8 wish, Why didn't this happen, unless your a Sanrion shipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Astrum1/pseuds/1Astrum1
Summary: Tyrion and Sansa spend some time reminiscing and chatting after the victory of the Living, where might things go from there?





	Would you like a drink my Lady?

Tyrion was drunk, his fists banged against the table as he gazed around Winterfell’s halls. Jaimie had just retired for the evening with Brienne, Jon and Daenerys had gone to their quarters, and the survivors of the battle of the dawn began to filter out to bed, many paired together, either with serving maids, or lovers found in the joy of life. Though a few people remained, the Hound sat alone, his fist clenching and unclenching at a table by himself, and a few soldiers and lords still drank, clanged their cups, and sang songs of victory. His eyes, moving throughout the hall to a certain other figure sitting all by herself. By the gods, she was beautiful. Blue eyes, and lustrous red hair, a neck that was flawless, and a form that had truly entered womanhood. Taking another drink, both to sate his thirst, and…oh was Tyrion breathless. Daenerys and his sister were beauties true, but she looked lovely. Her eyes caught his, and a wry smile appeared on her lips. 

Finishing his ale, Tyrion hopped up from the bench in which he had sat and waddled over to the other side of the room. He was bubbling, both from the downed ale, and a tumultuous mix of emotions, there was so much he felt, and so much he wanted to say. He wanted to inquire, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to ask, and he felt a stirring in his chest, and a bubbling sensation in his loins. “May I sit next to you, my lady?”, Tyrion asked, Sansa smiled and replied her posture becoming less formal, “Of course my Lord”. “Now now, Sansa, remember what I told you on our wedding night, call me Tyrion only Tyrion.”, “well then, my lord, Sansa responded, I want you to call me Sansa, not “My lady”. Stuttering to the seat, Tyrion replied “Why of course my la..Sansa”. “So…the Lady of Winterfell, what a story you must have”, “a very long and unpleasant one”, Sansa said, her tone becoming somewhat more serious, “well we can’t have any unpleasantness, this is a victory celebration after all”, “You must have a story as well”,” I suggest then, as we were married we tell our stories”. “I have a better idea, Tyrion” I say we drink, after all you did say this was a victory celebration”, “I must agree, you give me another reason to drink, like any good wife” Tyrion said, and for a second he expected Sansa not to respond well to the joke, but she chuckled, and took it well. Drinking for the next hour and telling stories of their time after Joffrey had choked on his wine, Tyrion was beginning to feel something else besides the alcohol, he had been her husband, a husband forced on her, but her husband still. He recalled Bronn telling him he wanted to fuck her, and he remembered denying it, she was a hostage and a child, but now with the ale flowing, and his tongue loosened, he spurted out “Your so beautiful Sansa, when we were married you were but a little dove, a child and a hostage, but I can see your a woman now, proud and triumphant, and oh…I…I want you”. 

Sansa’s lips and legs shifted a little, at this confession made from too much wine and ale, and thinking for a moment on how to respond, “You know I was afraid, when we were married that I would have to consummate, but you didn’t force me”, “You were kind and compassionate, and protected me, and I never told you how much I appreciated that”, “I did what was right Sansa, a concept my sister and wretched nephew never understood”, “You know, I have resigned myself to never knowing love, I gave up whores you know”. For a moment Sansa was shocked, The Imp given up whoring? What had the world come to? “I have to admit, I had long given up ever loving someone, having someone, being a wife, after Littlefinger, after Ramsay…”. “It seems we have both become more bitter and jaded haven’t we”, “the world is a cruel place, I was crushed out of my illusions when Joffrey took my father’s head”, Tyrion grimaced, that was the cause, the opening folly in a spiral of disaster and calamity. “Given the victory of the living tonight, perhaps we gave up too soon”, “Maybe”, Sansa placed her hand on his knee, and her other hand reached for his. Reaching closer, “You know, your less handsome now with a beard, though I do think you should shave it, Tyrion smiled oh only a wife would tell a man how his facial hair ruins his appearance.” “Maybe, I can shave, maybe…we can try again, what do you think Sansa?” Sansa was now even more drunk than he was, “At first, I cried when I was told I was going to marry you, but I remember, I walked in the godswood with Margaery, the only queen I ever liked, who told me I could make the best of my circumstances”, “My circumstances have changed, but now I can choose freely, and I, I want someone, I don’t wish to be alone, political considerations and alliances, the world and its japes all be damned”. Pulling him closer, they kissed, tentatively and cautiously at first, and oh gods was this happening, she tasted of sweetness, wine, and a fluid and swift tongue, I feel whole again.  
They continued kissing, until Sansa picked him up, and they strode down the hallway still kissing, and entered her chambers, Sansa pinched the candle, and Tyrion felt a thud as he was tossed on the bed, clothes were stripped, his head burning with pain from the alcohol, Tyrion could see Sansa with her dress coming off, oh gods her legs, her breasts, her neck, her long neck, as his own attire slid to the side of the bed, would she have agreed to this if she were sober? Seeming to answer his question, “You know, Margaery also told me you are quite experienced, I hope your forswearing of whores hasn’t diminished your quality”, “Why I am the Imp Sansa, my skill will never diminish!” Tyrion said proudly, as they enjoyed the night, their night. Collapsing hours later, tangled together they fell asleep.


End file.
